


Hazy Shade of Winter

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kuron is Ryou (Voltron), Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Sickfic, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission.  Go drive out into some woods, grab the weird orb from pre-Galra occupation, drive home.  So easy that Shiro and Ryou stayed behind while the others handled a medical supply run.Really, they should have all known better.
Relationships: Kuron & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892047
Comments: 9
Kudos: 108





	Hazy Shade of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> It's Shiro and Ryou's birthday, so what do I do?
> 
> Make them suffer, of course.

“You wouldn’t think something so small would be so important,” Shiro murmured. He kneeled down in the snow, which put him at eye level with the metal ball. It had grooves that spiraled from the very top, all the way to the bottom where it rested on a pedestal. The entire thing was barely larger than a baseball, and Shiro could have easily held it in one hand.

Ryou snorted, climbing off the speeder and dragging his tablet out of his bag. “You could say the same thing about Pidge.”

“Not to her face.” Shiro arched a brow and let the edge of his mouth curl up.

“Definitely not.” Ryou crunched his way through the knee-high snow, giving his steps an extra kick to send flakes flying. As he settled, he coughed like he’d gotten flakes in his throat. Then he held his tablet up over the device, humming thoughtfully. “You’d also think something so important would be closer to civilization, and not in the middle of the woods.”

Shiro shrugged, looking around. The only thing in the clearing with the device was an old stone structure, now deeply overgrown with vines and moss. It was little more than a shack, and barely kept out the snow. It definitely didn’t seem like the headquarters for a defensive matrix. 

“Maybe at one point there were more buildings here,” he finally replied, still looking over the area. The whole clearing was barely fifty feet across, and was completely surrounded by dense woods. Flying through it on the speeder had been a challenge, if one Shiro had enjoyed. 

It was hard to believe there could have once been a settlement here. But it had also been hundreds of years since the Galra had taken over this planet, leaving the remaining population in splinters. It was long enough for their previous technology to fall into disuse and myth. Even just searching out this little ball had been sheer hope.

For once, their hopes had panned out.

Ryou hummed, clearly only half paying attention. His tablet flashed through the results of his scan, far too fast for Shiro to try and read it. “Well, whatever. We found it, and it seems to be intact.”

“Good to hear.” Shiro stood and brushed the snow off his armor. “You think you can activate it?”

“Should be able to.” Ryou squinted at it as he shoved his tablet back in his bag. “Yeah, I think so. Keep the engine running on the scooter. This should be quick, and I want to get back to civilization ASAP.”

Shiro gave a dry little salute and trudged his way through the snow. It made that odd, styrofoam crunch on every step that he remembered from his childhood. Right now they were busy, but later he might go on a walk just to enjoy the weather. It had been decades since he’d seen snow this deep, and their space-proof armor kept out the cold admirably.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, Ryou ran his finger along the metal swirl, then paused like he felt something. He twisted, and the top third of the device moved with him. After a quarter turn, it matched back up with the pattern again and locked into place.

The grooves lit up with a pale green light.

Ryou grinned. “There we go. Now let’s see what this baby actually does. Come oooon, cool shields.”

With that, he pressed down.

The lights grew brighter, and a humming filled the air. Then there was a burst of concussive force that nearly knocked Shiro over, and made all the trees around them sway.

Several things happened at once.

The speeder, which had been warm and vibrating, went dead. It crashed down into the snow, no longer hovering just over, and toppled onto its side.

Ryou suddenly stumbled, leaning heavily onto his right side. His eyes were wide and shocked. 

At the same moment, a heavy weight suddenly yanked down on Shiro, enough to make his shoulder strain like it was about to pop from its socket.

And finally, the cold that Shiro had only felt around his exposed head started to seep in everywhere.

Shiro tried to move his right arm, but got no response at all. It continued to hang limp at his side, pure dead weight. Finally, he grabbed onto the elbow with his left hand and pulled up, at least helping the strain on his shoulders.

“Ryou,” he said, slow and deeply unhappy. “What did you do?”

“Uh, so...” Ryou’s face screwed up as he paused, eyes on his own prosthetic. After a moment, he sighed, visibly giving up trying to control it. “We assumed the defense was some kind of shield, because the storyteller said it stopped the Galra for a bit. But, uh, stop can mean a few things? Not just, like, keep out. But also, maybe, you know... turn off their machines?”

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s an EMP.”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“How do we fix it?”

Sighing, Ryou trudged over to his bag and used his foot to hold it up while he rooted through. After a moment, he pulled out a small pack. His shoulder jerked, then went still, like he’d tried to use his right hand out of habit. Instead, he held it up to Shiro. “Unzip, please.”

Shiro did so, peering in. Inside seemed to be an emergency kit - there was a roll of bandages, and a set of tools. In the middle, faintly glowing, was a small Balmera crystal.

Ryou nodded his thanks, then started through the snow toward the stone structure. “EMPs should just knock everything offline for a minute, and it’ll probably start up in a bit. But I can get my arm up and running faster if I just replace the crystal, and then I’ll see about the armor. Let’s hope this place has a table.”

Following after, Shiro frowned at Ryou’s back. “If it’s only going to take a few minutes, why not let it happen naturally?”

Ryou only shrugged. “You want to sit out in the cold and just wait?”

Honestly, that didn’t seem like a terrible option. Shiro didn’t particularly  _ enjoy _ sitting around and doing nothing, but taking a short break wasn’t going to kill him.

But Ryou’s shoulders were set, and the line of his jaw was stiff. He didn’t look back at all as he half-stomped his way into the structure.

He was upset. And Shiro could easily figure out why. Neither of them enjoyed their arms being affected, and Ryou especially hated the cold. No wonder he wanted to work on his armor as fast as possible - the longer he sat around in the snow, the more uncomfortable he would probably be.

So Shiro followed along silently. There was nothing he could say that would help, and pointing out Ryou’s discomfort would only make him defensive. Letting him do so unnecessary work was a small price to pay. 

The building at least provided cover and shade, though the overcast skies were hardly blinding. The inside had more plants growing, climbing up the walls. The roof was surprisingly intact, though whatever windows and doors it had once sported were long since lost.

The entire thing was just one room. A small structure of stone sat against one wall. Likely, it had once been a stove or fireplace. The area in front of it was utterly empty. Whatever furniture had sat there was either long since taken or rotted away. On the far wall there was a long, low set of stones that might have once been the base for a bed.

Ryou moved to stone slab and sat down hard. There wasn’t any snow on the ground inside, but there was dirt from generations of plants growing and dying. 

With his working hand, Ryou impatiently brushed off the space, then burst into a loud coughing fit.

Sitting down next to him, Shiro arched his brows. “Careful with the dust. Don’t breathe in anything dangerous.”

“Keep the fussing to yourself.” Ryou didn’t even look up, and his tone lacked the good natured teasing it usually held. His voice was rough, partly from coughing and partly from tone. 

Ryou dumped his arm on the makeshift table with an uncharastic lack of care, then dropped his kit next to it. Pulling out one of his tools, he started to take off the plating, muttering darkly under his breath. His left hand slipped often, slowing his progress significantly.

Shiro watched interestedly, cradling his own prosthetists in his lap. Despite using his off hand, Ryou worked with his arm with practiced ease. 

If the situation was reversed, Shiro wouldn’t know how to begin getting his arm to work. None of them did. Even with Ryou’s old copy, they still couldn’t truly understand Haggar’s handiwork. Likely, it was her own blend of technology and alchemy.

Dangerous. But everything about their lives was dangerous. What else was new?

Finally, Ryou popped open his arm. A wisp of dark smoke curled out. Groaning, Ryou waved it away, then dug in his arm and pulled out the old crystal.

Unlike the version glowing in Ryou’s kit, this one looked ruined. The color had darkened to a deep, cool grey, and there were cracks running up and down the sides. At the very ends, spiderwebs of black spread down.

The battery hadn’t just been turned off. It had been destroyed from the inside.

Ryou stared at the crystal, holding it up to the light from the window. “Well,” he said. “Shit.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” Shiro said.

“Definitely not.” Ryou put it aside and plucked the new crystal out of his bag. He slotted it into his arm, and after a moment, the whole thing lit up, starting from the palm and moving down to the shoulder. He worked the fingers, then flexed. “Much better.”

As he tested his arm, Shiro picked up the discarded crystal. On closer inspection, it didn’t just look darkened. It was burnt, like electricity had run through it.

“I suspect that wasn’t just an EMP.”

“No kidding.” Ryou turned, and twirled his finger in a circle. “Here, I’m going to check the armor. It’ll be easier on you, so turn around. I need your back.”

Shiro obeyed, curling in so Ryou had easier access to the back panels of the armor. With both hands working, Ryou was able to get to the internal pieces much more easily. 

“Any chance you have more of those crystals?” Shiro asked.

“Nope. The armor doesn’t run off them anyway. They have an internal battery using these.” Ryou reached around and held up a small, triangular gem, which was blackened in the same way the crystal had been.

Shiro took it and turned it over in his hand. “Huh. Where have I seen these before?”

“If you haven’t been rooting through the tech in the control room? Then probably on Allura’s face.” Ryou chuckled, though it was strained. “Her earrings are made of the same thing.”

“The Princess wears batteries as jewelry?”

“Yup.” Ryou shut the panels with perhaps more force than necessary, then sealed it again with his tools. “It’s how they connect with the castle. And, you know, it’s probably practical. I might ask for a set when we get back. Because now we’re screwed.”

Shiro clenched his fingers around the ruined battery. “Our speeder is probably in just as bad shape.”

“Mhmm. And our helmets are just as blown. We can’t call out for help, it’s miles back to civilization in unfamiliar woods, we don’t have a map or a way of navigating, and our armor isn’t keeping us warm anymore.”

Ryou’s eyes tracked over to the nearest window, taking in the snowy landscape. A shiver ran through him, barely visible except to Shiro's practiced eye. The armor was at least warm, despite the thin material, so he shouldn’t be that cold yet.

That wasn’t what the trembling was from.

Shiro started to reach out, but paused. Ryou’s set jaw didn’t invite comment or comfort, and he’d already reacted sharply to soothing words. So instead, Shiro would offer pragmatism. “We have shelter, and the team knows where we are. They’ll come looking for us when we don’t return.”

Ryou snorted. “When they even notice. But they won’t get back from their medical supply mission until later tomorrow.”

True. Shiro closed his eyes. He pulled his now useless, heavy arm closer to his chest, and tried not to think about how cold it was going to get. “You’d think we’d learn not to get in trouble when we don’t have back-up.”

“Neither of us is that smart.” Ryou patted his back, then stood. His shoulders were stiff, and his hands clenched into tight fists by his side. “Alright, well, no sense sitting around. We need to get this place set up for the night.”

Right. “At least there’s plenty of wood to make a fire, and we have a solid roof. If we can block the door and windows, we should be able to keep this building warm.”

Shiro stood, and wobbled as he balanced against the heavy, dead weight on his right side. 

Ryou eyed Shiro, head tilted. Then he dug into his bag again and came away with the roll of bandages.

Before Shiro could ask - he certainly wasn’t injured - Ryou started to wrap his dead prosthesis, leaving two long trails on either side. Those he tied together, then hooked over Shiro’s neck, creating a passable sling.

“Oh,” Shiro rolled his shoulders, getting used to the tight pull of the bandages. But it took away a lot of the strain, and freed up his other hand. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Ryou shrugged back. “I’ll see about making windows and a door. I might be able to get, like, a wood block or bark or something.”

That would very likely take both arms, so Shiro nodded, if reluctantly. Ryou was going to have to do most of the work today. His stomach rolled as he realized how reliant he was going to have to be.

“I’ll look for firewood,” Shiro said, keeping his voice steady. 

“Good plan.” Ryou stepped out through the open doorway, then promptly sneezed again. He paused, one hand starting to raise, before he nearly doubled over in a fit of coughs.

Shiro ducked back in to grab a rag from Ryou’s bag, then offered it as a tissue. As he did, he looked over Ryou’s face. “Were you coughing earlier?”

Immediately, Ryou’s expression tightened. He wiped his mouth with the rag, then crumpled it in his hand. “It’s the dust,” he said, voice coming out thick. Then he cleared his throat hard. “Try and resist the urge to fuss until there’s someone else to direct it at, please.”

Shiro frowned back at him. “I’m sorry for caring about your health. I’ll stop that.”

“Good.” With that, Ryou half-kicked his way through the snow and into the woods. He didn’t look back.

Shiro’s stomach churned, unused to such a surly tone from Ryou. He could be prickly, but usually with a joking edge. Now he was just... cold, for lack of a better term.

“Don’t go too far,” Shiro called after. “If you get lost, I can’t help you.”

“What did I  _ just say?” _

Shiro sighed to himself, stomach flipping over. It was difficult not to take the tone personally, even if he understood why. Still, there was nothing he could do about it except do his job and hope Ryou worked out his mood on his own project.

That in mind, Shiro worked in a circle around the clearing, trying to make sure to always keep the stone structure in sight. It was slow going with only one arm, especially when it was already so heavy. Even holding heavier logs with the sling proved to be a strain on his shoulder. 

So instead Shiro worked in small batches, first finding a few pieces and working up to larger logs. The section of the woods was untouched for decades now, and so finding old, fallen logs wasn’t an issue. 

It was harder to find dry wood, considering the layers of snow and ice, but Shiro managed to find enough to get started. He also made a mental note of a long, thin fallen trunk that would make great logs later. If there was a saw he could cut it himself, or else he’d just get Ryou to use his arm.

It took four trips back and forth for Shiro to feel comfortable with their supply. Even by the end of that, he ached. Shiro was used to combat and strenuous activity, but not to the constant heavy strain on one shoulder, and having to do all the work with the other. The effort of getting through such thick snow didn’t help, nor did the persistent chill. At least the armor was waterproof.

As he returned with his last armful of wood, the sound of hacking coughs echoed through the air.

Shiro sighed, dropping his logs into the growing pile by the side of the stone structure. Then he walked around to the other side, where Ryou was braced against the wall. His head hung long, and his helmet was on the ground, white hair spiked messily. 

As Shiro moved closer, Ryou’s fingers dug against the wall like claws, and he groaned. His voice came out thick and heavy.

“Ryou,” Shiro sighed. 

Ryou’s head snapped up. He stared for a moment, then sighed. Slowly, he straightened up. “It’s a cold,” he admitted. “Nothing that bad. I felt fine this morning, otherwise I would have told you to stay behind so you didn’t get sick.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Shiro used his teeth to take off his left glove, then pressed his palm to Ryou’s forehead. “Yeah, you’re definitely warm.”

“Could have told you that.” Ryou snorted and shook the hand off. His previous sharpness seemed to have left him, leaving him simply quiet and tired. “I’m almost done.” He nodded to the closest window, which had a cut piece of wood blocking the open space. 

Shiro looked him over, then nodded. It wasn’t like there was another option. They needed Ryou working, since he had the functioning prosthetic arm. “Alright, finish up and try to take a break. I’ll handle food.”

Ryou choked out a thick laugh. “You going hunting?” He pulled the rag from earlier off his bag and blew his nose into it. “I have snacks in my bag. You can have it. M’not hungry.”

“Ryou-”

“It’s one day. I’ll live.”

Scrubbing his exposed hand over his face, Shiro sighed. “Okay.” What else was he supposed to say? Using his teeth, he held onto his glove enough to slip it back on. “Do you have a saw?”

“Not much use for one.” Ryou mimed chopping with his hand. “We don’t work on much that isn’t metal, and I have this. Why? Needed help?”

“Not yet.” Shiro bit the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed. Maybe he could find some other way of breaking that old log up. It was dry enough for firewood, which might mean he could break it another way.

He didn’t need to be asking more of Ryou. Besides, this was Shiro’s job. He’d figure it out.

Ryou’s brows rose. He opened his mouth, only to start hacking again. This time, now that he was closer, Shiro could hear the wet rattle in his chest.

Great.

Shiro hesitated, then rested his hand on Ryou’s shoulder. The pressure wouldn’t read through the armor, but it at least made Shiro feel better. “Finish up, then we can get started on the fire. We’ll melt snow for water, and-” He paused. “Do we have something to hold water?”

“Not really.” Ryou scrubbed over his forehead, eyes closed. “That really need to make emergency packs. For now, we can either make bowls with wood, or... I guess we could use the plating from the hover bike? It’d be gross, though. We don’t have anything to clean it off.”

Making a face, Shiro shook his head. “No, especially not after seeing what happened to the inside of the armor. We’ll make do with wood, or maybe stone. I’ll search around and bring you what I find. Then we can use your hand. Once you’re done, why don’t you head inside and make sure it’s ready?”

Ryou shot him a flat look, making it clear he knew Shiro was trying to get him to stay inside their structure and rest. But he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll make sure that stove has a flue.”

Oh. Shiro hadn’t even thought of that. “Good thought. I would have filled the room with smoke.”

Ryou let out a raspy laugh. “Yeah, that wouldn’t have been fun. I’ll take care of it.” He stepped around Shiro, patting him on the shoulder as he passed.

Shiro watched him trudge off, unable to tear his eyes away. Each step took considerable effort, since he had to kick his way through the snow. As he went, he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, rubbing up and down his biceps.

It wasn’t until Ryou fully disappeared into the woods that Shiro was finally able to turn away. He set off back the same way he’d gone before, determined to find good wood and anything that could serve as a cup. If Ryou got worse, he was going to need to be kept hydrated.

Shiro could handle this part. 

First, he took another lap around, this time looking for anything the right size to become a bowl. The log he’d hoped to turn into more firewood could work, but it was still a daunting task one handed. Ryou’s hand could easily cut through worked metal, but he actually wasn’t sure how it would fare against stone.

Finally, Shiro found a rounded rock, as if someone had enlarged a fat skipping stone. He heaved it up, gripping it as tightly as he could with one arm, despite the ice on it. Trudging back, Shiro set it down next to the firewood pile. 

Once done, Shiro braced himself to finally deal with the old log. It was slightly thicker than his arm, and would have been the work of seconds if he’d just had his arm working. But Shiro refused to ask Ryou for help on this. It was a stick. He could handle it.

That in mind, Shiro brought his leg up, and kicked down hard.

His foot slid off the snow on top, and he nearly did a split right onto the log. He just barely caught his balance in time to keep from a very unfortunate injury.

Shiro held still, all his weight on his back foot and his eyes wide at the near miss. Trudging back with that particular complaint would have been humiliating, but it might have at least gotten a laugh out of Ryou. Still, he’d really, deeply rather not.

Instead, Shiro braced his boot on the log again, this time taking care to wedge a knot between the heel and the rest of the sole. Then he pressed down, careful not to unbalance himself again.

The log wobbled, creaking where it rested against rocks and another, living tree. But it didn’t give.

“C’mon,” Shiro sighed, kicking it lightly. It startled to roll, then settled stubbornly back into place. He wished desperately they ever had a use for a saw, or even a dinner knife. It would take forever to get through the log, but at least he wouldn’t feel so useless.

Maybe he could go get Ryou’s screwdriver and try the same thing? No, that’d be even worse. But a tool might be what Shiro needed. They had the stupid metal EMP, the broken speeder, Ryou’s little emergency kit and... that was about it. 

Except-

Perking, Shiro trotted back to the house and retrieved the bowl-to-be-maybe. It was decently heavy, and had something resembling a blunt edge along the side.

Shiro held the rock over the log, the long end pointed downward. Then he threw it down, as hard as he could wielding something so clumsy with his off hand.

The stone cracked into the log, sending up a spray of bark and splinters. Shiro took a wary step back from that, and to make sure the stone didn’t roll in his direction. It did not, instead sinking right back into the snow.

Stepping closer, Shiro peered down at the log again. It wasn’t cut through, but the stone hard broken through a decent chunk, creaking a two inch deep gouge.

A stress point.

Shiro smiled triumphantly and once again kicked down. There was a creaking, crackling moment of resistance, and then the log finally gave.

“Yes!” Shiro threw up his remaining arm, breathing heavily. Each lungful of air seemed to be getting colder, and he definitely shouldn’t have been working up a sweat in these conditions if he could help it. But he was still  _ proud, _ even if it was a silly accomplishment. Wilderness survival had never been his strong suit, as someone who had gone from city to city before the Garrison. 

Keith was going to laugh at him when he heard about this. But Shiro was just glad he’d done it himself, and not had to drag Ryou out for something so  _ simple. _

Repeating the process a few more times, Shiro turned the long, fallen log into several pieces. He had a handful of shattered chunks that would be good for starting the fire, a few one foot-ish blocks for the full fire, and then one several foot long log for water, if the stone didn’t work.

Good enough.

Shiro paused and turned around, surveying the woods around them. The foliage was relatively Earth-like, and he’d heard rustling on a few occasions. There were probably animals, but Shiro wouldn’t know how to begin making traps with their limited supplies. Even if he could, he didn’t know how to prepare their meat - what was the proper cooking temperature of alien animals?

Sighing, Shiro shook his head. They did have snacks, and it was one day, like Ryou had said. They were just going to have to wait out the night.

Which meant nothing to do but sit around and watch Ryou get sick.

Fun.

Bracing himself, Shiro heaved up as much wood as he could in one go, and prepared to make several trips back and forth.

By the time he’d finished, the sun had reached its highest peak and started to curve back down again, though at the moment it was hidden by clouds. Shiro brushed himself off as best he could, then balanced the stone and longest log in his arm. He used his foot to nudge open the huge, flat piece of wood that Ryou had cut off the side of some poor tree.

The inside of the stone building was shockingly warm compared to outside. The transition made the tips of Shiro’s fingers and his face tingle. Inside the stone, a fire was already crackling, started from the wood he’d gathered before. 

On top of the stove, a piece of the speeder’s casing had been hastily welded upright. Shiro blinked at it, head tilted.

“Flue was cracked. That was the best fix I had on short notice. It’s not like the speeder is going anywhere until we get a new battery.” Ryou picked his head up from where he was sprawled on the stone slab that might once have been a bed. “Close the damn door, would you?”

Right. Shiro set down the bowl options, then put the ‘door’ back in place. Then he moved over to Ryou and sat down, hip pressed to the stone slab. “Are you going to snap at me if I check your temperature?”

“Maybe.” Ryou slumped back down, eyes closed. “You don’t have to check. I have a fever. It’s like-” He paused for a cough, which turned into a fit. He eventually pushed himself up onto his elbows until he could get control again. “Like when we both had that cold and I made you watch the bad Star Trek movies.”

“Well, I’m spared that pain this time, at least.” Shiro watched Ryou carefully, not bothering to disguise his worry. “Between this and Insurrection? This might be better.”

“Bullshit,” Ryou said, voice still a croak from coughing. But he smiled back, mood better even if he was obviously tired. Even if he was getting worse, his mood seemed improved with the addition of a fire.

All in all, it certainly could have been worse. They had shelter, plenty of fresh water, and they only had to wait out the night. Both of them had slept in far worse conditions - even Ryou specifically, considering his own survival story.

“Let’s get the water situation handled, and then you can rest a bit.” Shiro retrieved his two options and set them both down next to Ryou. “I’m not sure how well you can get through the stone, but it seems wiser if we can. The wood will burn, and I’m not sure how well unpolished wood holds water. Will it absorb it again?”

Ryou’s nose crinkled as he thought about it. He tapped his prosthetic fingers against the stone, clattering with each touch. “If we just cut it? I’d think so. But burning it might act as a sealant. But that’ll taste gross, and who knows what else is in the wood that we’ll be drinking. Let’s start with the stone.”

That settled, Ryou activated his arm. He pressed just one finger to the stone to test. The stone underneath began to glow bright yellow, and it slowly began to sink in. The area around blackened, and a white crust formed. But slowly, Ryou was able to dig out a decent chunk of the stone. It was uneven, like he’d made the stone of out clay but poking it down with his fingers, but perfectly functional.

“This thing’s going to be hot for a while.” Ryou slowly pushed himself up to his feet with a groan, holding the stone in his right hand. “I’ll put it outside and we can get it later.”

“I’ll scrub it a bit with the snow first, too,” Shiro offered. He braced his heel on the log, then slid it over closer to the stove. It’d make better firewood later.

Ryou nodded agreeably and moved the door. As soon as he did, cold air rushed in. “Fuck,” he groaned, dragging the word out. Rather than go any further, Ryou gently tossed the whole thing outside. 

Just as he was about to duck back in, Ryou paused, eyes wide. Slowly, he held out his hands, and then looked back inside at Shiro.

Barely visible, small white flakes drifted downward around him.

Shiro stood and followed him out. The sky, which had been only mildly cloudy earlier, was now completely overcast. Flakes fell lazily around them, swirling in the wind.

Snowfall.

Unbidden, a smile grew over Shiro’s face. He stepped out into the snow, revelling in the crunch in a way he hadn’t while there was work to be done.

Ryou stayed behind. His arms wrapped around his chest, and he visibly shuddered. But for once, he didn’t make further comment. Instead, he stayed quiet, giving Shiro this moment.

Tilting his head back, Shiro let the flakes fall onto his face and took a deep breath. The chill ached in his lungs, but he didn’t mind.

The snow was beautiful when it coated the forest already. But when it was falling, Shiro could feel the same childish wonder and excitement he had as a young boy.

“Hey,” Ryou said, very quietly. Shiro tilted his head back to look properly at him, though he didn’t move. “Take your time, but I’m going back in. I can’t.”

Shiro nodded and offered him a smile. “It’s okay. You have good reasons. Go on in and rest.”

Ryou nodded right back, still tightly holding himself. He ducked back in, his shoulders raised up high.

Once he was safely back inside, Shiro took another deep breath. He made his way to the side of the house, where there weren’t any footprints maring the view. Settling against the wall, Shiro settled in and just watched the snow fall.

It was a shame that Ryou had such bad memories of snow. The two of them were stuck here, and for once there was physically no way to do work. No connecting to the Castle, no reading reports on their armor, nothing to fix. 

Horribly, it was the closest Shiro had to a proper vacation in years. Even considering Ryou’s growing illness and his own dead weight of an arm.

Which was  _ pathetic, _ but it wasn’t like Shiro could switch off his responsibilities for a week.

It would have been nice to fully enjoy the moment, as long as it lasted. Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a snowball fight, and he and Ryou would be interestingly matched for it. Or they could do like Pidge’s stories about her junk planet and build snowmen of everyone. Snowmen period.

There was nothing stopping Shiro from doing that one, but it seemed a shame to disturb the peace of the moment for just himself. So instead he sank his boots into the snow and just enjoyed the view.

But the longer he sat, the more reality intruded. Shiro wondered about the supply mission the others were on. It should have been relatively simple, but ‘should’ was never a reliable concept for them. Anything could happen, and they’d be sitting here in the cold, waiting for rescue and never knowing what was going on.

A familiar fear from when he’d been separated from the rest of the team. Not something Shiro tried to dwell on.

When he managed to push that away, Shiro ran over the logistics of their night again. They were good for supplies, but what about Ryou? At least now they could get him water. But if he was throwing up, or needed more urgent medical attention, Shiro was useless. His field medicine scores could attest to that.

So much for a nice relaxing sit in the snow.

Shiro shoved himself up onto his feet and stumbled his way through the snow. Picking an undisturbed portion, he threw himself backwards onto it, as if he could make himself have fun out of sheer spite to his brain. Once in, he waved his one working arm and both legs back and forth.

Climbing out, Shiro eyed the resulting shape with a critical eye. A one-winged angel, apparently.

Didn’t have the same effect. And, frankly, Shiro had never really thought the kicked up snow looked like an angel anyway. But at least he’d done one winter time event.

Nodding with satisfaction, Shiro made his way back inside.

In the time he’d been gone, Ryou had stolen the longer log from next to the stove, and instead made it his pillow. He was on his side, tucked up into a ball, and breathing deeply.

Asleep, then.

Shiro shook off the flakes that clung to him and stepped over. Ryou’s breath had a wet rattled to it, and his face had a distinctly unhealthy flush. Even in his sleep, he was shivering slightly. Kneeling down, Shiro pulled off his glove with his teeth and pressed his palm to Ryou’s forehead.

Immediately, Ryou jolted. His eyes snapped open, hazy still. A whine bubbled out of him, and he looked up at Shiro as if he’d committed a great betrayal. “Cold,” he slurred out, so thick it was hard to understand.

Well, he was definitely running hot, but it was hard to tell more than that. Shiro pulled his hand and gave Ryou a guilty smile. “Sorry, just checking on you. Sleep, okay?”

“Kay.” Ryou closed his eyes again, trustingly settling back down. “Wake me soon. Gotta get going.”

Despite the situation, Shiro cracked a smile. He must have pulled Ryou out of a dream. “Yeah? Where are we going?”

Ryou mumbled something indistinct and snuggled as best he could against the stone bed. “Team needs... cause... miss them.”

The amusement drained out of Shiro as he realized what Ryou was dreaming of.

Landing on that icy planet, chasing futilely after Voltron in an unstocked sentry ship.

He was dreaming of when he still thought he was Shiro. Then again, he hadn’t seemed confused to see an identical version of himself sitting over him, so maybe not exactly of that moment. 

Shiro knew damn well how dreams could take other fears and memories and morph them into new forms.

“They miss you too,” Shiro said softly, if only because Ryou should be told. “You’ll catch them, I promise.”

Ryou didn’t reply. His breathing deepened again, already asleep. If he’d even been awake.

Shiro sat next to him, willing the fire to burn away the chill in his stomach, despite knowing it had nothing to do with the cold. He stared into the flame, not really seeing it.

“We both got home. And we’ll do it again.”

There was no response, but Shiro felt better for saying it. Like with the team, he was most confident when he was convincing someone else.

They’d get through this. With any luck, Ryou would sleep right through the day and night, and there’d be a rescue early tomorrow. He’d have a few uncomfortable dreams, and probably a sore back, and that would be the damage of a night in the cold.

Shiro snorted.

‘With any luck’. Them? Yeah right.

***

Slowly, the light coming through the cracks in the windows faded away. The wind grew stronger, occasionally rattling their wood blockers. Once in a while an errant snowflake blew inside, only to melt on the floor.

Through it all, Shiro sat with his back against the stone, legs sprawled in front of him. Despite being stuck in what was rapidly becoming a serious snowstorm, there wasn’t much to do. He’d washed out the stone bowl as best he could, then packed it high with snow. It now sat a few feet from the fire, melted into water for when Ryou woke. Shiro had also brought a good amount of the wood inside, just so he wouldn’t have to dig it out from under the snow later.

Other than that, all Shiro could do was sit around and wait. There was no coalition work, no missions to plan, nothing but the sound of Ryou’s thick breathing and Shiro’s own thoughts.

About now, the others would be in the middle of ferrying a medical response ship to Tyvanix. With the lack of Galra supplies, the planet had been struggling to restructure itself. In the middle of that, a strand of a disease had broken out and quickly spread through the displaced population. The coalition was sending along a response team, including a ship that could synthesize vaccines and cures. 

All of which would have been fine, except that the technology was expensive and delicate. Any kind of warping could make the equipment on board useless. Which meant that the ship had to painstakingly fly to where it was needed. In open space, full of very valuable equipment, through an area known for pirate activity.

Thus, a Voltron escort. The Castle went along as well for additional medical back-up, for charging the lions on the journey, and because staying behind with Shiro and Ryou would have been ridiculous. Neither of them had the ability to use the teleduv if it was needed for support.

At the end of the day, it was a simple mission. Very little could go wrong, despite how tedious it would be. The little ship would move achingly slow compared to the lions, and they’d have to stay within viewing distance.

The mission would be a good testing ground for Keith. It played against his strengths - little action, little spur of the moment decisions, and a lot of patience. But the reward at the end would be how helpful the medical relief would be for the planet. Aid was eagerly anticipated by what little local government had developed.

Still, there could always be issues. Open space was dangerous, even to Voltron. The pirates could have more firepower than expected, and one lion was far more vulnerable than Voltron as a whole. Or the call for aid could be a Galra trap, designed to lure them in and capture them. The medical ship could break down, or else damage the very necessary equipment. The tensions of such a boring mission could lead to infighting, especially between Lance and Keith, and set back Keith from wanting to try to be the Black Paladin.

Shiro was worrying over nothing. Likely, the rest of the team had their own little private communications channel where they could freely complain about how slow the process was. By now they’d be more than halfway, eager to be done but in no real danger. No pirate was likely to take on any ship with the whole of Voltron supporting it - they preferred easy money and not to be blown up.

But there was nothing else to  _ do _ but worry. Shiro knocked his head back against the stone wall, biting back a sigh. At least if Ryou had been well they could have talked. This would have been a great opportunity to pick Ryou’s brain for holes in his memories and filled them in. A good Japanese lesson, or maybe some history, would have been an excellent distraction.

So instead, Shiro sat, staring at his feet, and wishing he had at least brought a deck of cards. If his damn armor had worked, he could have even tried to read one of those incomprehensibly translated Altean novels he had saved.

His thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud coughs.

Blinking, Shiro straightened up and looked over at Ryou. He was still on his side, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. But he rocked with the force of his coughing fit. This one lasted longer, possibly because each wet-sounding cough was weaker. The force of his movements scraped his head against the stone bed and log pillow.

Shiro shuffled his way over. “Hey,” he greeted softly. “Let’s get you sitting up. It’ll be easier that way.”

“-ro?” Ryou’s voice was a hoarse rasp. Even that one syllable sounded painful to get out. His eyes cracked open, only to get stopped by another set of coughs.

This time, Shiro didn’t even bother to ask. He climbed up next to Ryou on the bed, and placed his one working hand between his shoulder blades. Shiro heaved his shoulders up, forcing him to sit. He supported him like that while he heaved.

“Better?”

Ryou’s coughs finally lessened enough for him to take a deep breath. “Yeah.” He wiped over the back of his mouth, then grimaced at the taste of his glove. “Water?”

“Think you can stay up on your own?”

Hesitating, Ryou seemed to consider. Then he nodded, reaching back to brace himself on one palm. “Mhmm.”

Frankly, Ryou looked about to topple over even with Shiro’s hand on his back. But he slowly pulled away. Ryou wobbled, but kept his balance, so Shiro retrieved the bowl of water. 

“Let me, okay?” Shiro held the bowl up to his lips.

Ryou eyed him tiredly, lips pulling down. But he didn’t argue, and instead let Shiro tilt the bowl as he sipped. “‘Nuff,” he mumbled, pulling his head away. A few drops ran down his chin when he couldn’t keep up.

Putting the bowl aside, Shiro nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you want more. Want to lay back down?”

Ryou nodded, eagerly slumping back into place. He curled up on his side again, legs tucked against his chest. Now that he was still, it was easy to see the tremble running through him.

“Do you hurt?” Shiro asked. “Or are you feverish?”

“Cold,” Ryou said. His eyes fell closed as he tucked in tighter. “Blanket?”

The question was so painfully hopeful that Shiro’s heart cracked. “If I had one, it’d be all yours. But we don’t have much right now, remember?”

Ryou cracked his eyes back open. They were hazy and soft. His expression openly fell as he looked up at Shiro. “M’cold,” he repeated, voice wobbling.

Fuck. Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Ryou so plainly ask for something that wasn’t purposefully ridiculous, or else actually for someone else’s benefit. Right now he just needed to be warm, and he trusted Shiro enough to ask.

The one time he was vulnerable, Shiro could do nothing for him.

“I know,” Shiro said, even gentler than before. “How about I go add some wood to the fire, okay? You try and rest up.”

“M-” Ryou cut off as another round of coughs cut through him. By the end, he just sounded exhausted. “Mkay.”

With that, Ryou pressed his face against the log and let out a long sigh. He continued to shiver, even as his breathing evened back out.

Shiro watched for a moment, heart still firmly lodged in his throat. He wished he could apologize, but it wasn’t worth waking Ryou up, even if he’d be more coherent this time.

Instead, Shiro moved to the fireplace and added on more of the smaller logs. The fire started to grow, crackling more powerfully. He’d have to watch their supply, since night had barely fallen. Shiro wasn’t actually sure how quickly wood burned through, so he didn’t know how much they’d need. Ryou was cold, but he suspected a lot of that was a fever. It wasn’t worth burning through all their supplies for something that wouldn’t even really help.

Even if Shiro was tempted, if only to do  _ something. _

Once the room was at least a little bit warmer, Shiro moved back over to Ryou. The fever was obvious from the flush and shivers, but he still pressed the back of his palm to Ryou’s neck.

He was burning up.

“You better not have been feverish when we left,” Shiro muttered. There was no real heat to the words, despite the frustration filling his chest. This was such a stupid chain of terrible luck. Any one thing could have gone right, and they wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

At his touch, Ryou muttered in his sleep. He swiped clumsily at Shiro’s hand, knocking it away. His arms curled protectively against his neck and chest. “-lp,” he croaked out, completely slurred, before settling again.

‘Lp?’ Shiro’s brows knitted together. He should leave it alone, because he wouldn’t want Ryou trying to piece together his bad dreams. But he had literally nothing better to occupy his mind in the cold, empty stone room.

Was it Galra? Ryou remembered far more of the language, though he never used it. His dreams might be Shiro’s old memories. The word also didn’t have to start with ‘lp’. It could be later, at the end, so-

Oh.

_ Help. _

Shiro’s chest tightened again. He turned away from Ryou, his one working hand gripping at the bandage sling.

Whatever Ryou was dreaming of, he was begging for help, and he was fighting back against something around his neck.

Ryou continued to shift in his sleep. He mumbled, but nothing seemed to form into words. Just grunts and whines. His bangs stuck to his forehead, silver from sweat.

Touching him had only frightened him. But Shiro couldn’t just sit there while Ryou suffered and pretend he didn’t notice.

So instead he hummed.

There was no tune, nothing it was based on, no plan. Just a slow, gentle melody, where each note flowed into the next without thought. Words would probably wake him, but maybe something soft and gentle could reach Ryou without disturbing him.

Or at least, that was the guess. Shiro had no idea if it would help. But it was better than just sitting there helplessly.

Slowly, Ryou started to settle down. His noises quieted, and even the tight way he was curled up loosened. His face was still flushed and he was sweating, but he did seem more comfortable.

Likely, it was the natural end of the dream, and nothing Shiro did. But even so, a little glow formed in his chest. If he did anything to help Ryou be more comfortable, he’d take it.

That in mind, Shiro at the base of the stone slab. It took a bit of rolling to get comfortable with his dead weight of an arm resting against him. Finally, though, he was able to lie down without metal jabbing into him. Ryou was breathing steadily and deeply above him, and the fire kept the room plenty warm, even without a blanket.

There was nothing to do, and listening to Ryou gave his brain something to focus on other than the predicament or the other paladins. Shiro closed his eyes so he could listen better and counted along with Ryou’s breathing. In for three, out for four. In for three, out for four.

In for... three...

Out....

***

A blast of cold air rushed over Shiro.

The sudden shift in temperatures roused Shiro from what had been a deep, if not comfortable, sleep. Immediately, he turned away from the chill, pressing his face to the floor to hide from it. 

“Close the door,” he groaned out. He tried to cover his head with his hands, but only one responded. “You’re letting the heat out.”

There was no response. The cold did not stop rushing into the room, and there was the sound of footsteps crunching through snow.

Okay, whoever wanted to go tromping around in the damn snow could at least have the decency to close the door after them. Who would even-

Wait.

Shiro sat up, his sleepy confusion draining away, only to be replaced with pure panic. He looked at the stone slab, which was indeed empty. The fire, which had earlier been roaring, was barely more than embers now.

And the ‘door’ was pushed aside far enough for someone to step through.

Someone who was currently stepping through thick snow and heavy winds to leave.

Scrambling to his feet, Shiro grabbed his helmet one handed and jammed it on. Without the battery, it didn’t do near enough to keep out the cold, but it was better than going out completely uncovered. 

“Ryou?” He called as he reached the door. The wind cut through his voice, muffling it under the howl.

As he watched, a hundred, shivering figure stumbled into the woods.

Cursing darkly, Shiro took the time to yank the door back into place as quickly as possible. It would give the stone room time to warm back up when he retrieved his brother from the  _ active snowstorm _ he’d just wandered into.

“If he just needed the bathroom...” Shiro trailed off, but honestly he  _ hoped _ that was what Ryou was up to. That implied a degree of control, if thoughtlessness for leaving open the door.

Shiro stomped his way through the snow after Ryou, ducking his head against the wind. His helmet had only been half engaged when they’d activated the EMP, and so flakes whipped against his nose and mouth, then blew up under the glass. 

Ryou’s steps had left two plowed rows in the snow, which Shiro took advantage of. The drifts were up to his thighs, now, and it made movement more than a little difficult, even before he got to the tree line.

“Ryou!” Shiro called again. He held up his one free hand to cover his face, trying to see farther in. It looked like there was a dark, moving shape ahead, but that could have been a trick of the snow and trees. He strained, and thought he could hear more coughing. “Ryou, please!”

Picking up the pace, Shiro followed the trail of snowy footsteps. When he got close enough, he could see Ryou. He was curled in on himself against the wind, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. The snow didn’t slow him much, as he pressed forward as if made of pure determination.

What was he  _ doing? _

“Ryou!” Shiro called again, even louder. He was only a few feet away, and there was no way that Ryou couldn’t hear him. But he didn’t so much as twitch.

So Shiro reached out and caught his arm.

Ryou whirled around, arm extended. Shiro’s instincts caught up, and he backed away just as Ryou’s arm lit the forest in bright blue. The glowing arc came toward Shiro, but missed by nearly a foot.

Stumbling, Ryou looked back up at Shiro. His face wasn’t angry or even resigned. Instead, his eyes were bright with pure terror. 

Whatever he saw in front of him, it probably wasn’t Shiro.

As he retreated, Ryou’s heel caught on a fallen tree. He fell back hard, groaning as he was jostled. But he continued to scramble back, his arm cutting a melted line through the snow and sending up steam.

Shiro stood in place, rooted by the sudden attack and Ryou’s obvious distress. His heart pounded in his chest. Part of him was aware that if Ryou had gotten luckier, Shiro would be in deep trouble right now. But the swing had been too clumsy and far away.

The fear for Ryou was so much deeper. Especially when he was chest deep in the snow, staring at Shiro like he was a monster come to kill him, and no doubt still completely feverish.

Finally, another coughing fit stopped Ryou. He brought one arm up to wheeze into the hollow of his elbow, shuddering each time he hacked.

Shiro took the opportunity to get close again. He kneeled in the snow next to Ryou, ignoring the chill that shot up his spine. “Hey. Can you hear me?”

Ryou’s eyes snapped open. For the first time, his eyes found Shiro’s face. At first, he just continued to cough, but he finally gave a nod.

“Good. I’m going to help you. But you need to come back with me, okay? We need to go where it’s warm.”

Ryou shook his head hard. Finally, he got control of his lungs again. “No.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, utterly unrecognizable. It must have hurt to speak even that short word.

Biting his bottom lip, Shiro glanced back, as if there was some clue deeper in the woods as to how to handle this. “You’re sick. You need to come inside until the snow stops. Do you understand?”

“Can’t,” Ryou said. He got his arms up and shakily pushed himself to his feet. Even that made him wobble like he was about to crash back down. It was a miracle he’d walked this far. “Team needs me. Gotta find...” He paused for another cough. “Ship.”

This was still happening? Shiro’s stomach dropped out, and he bit back his annoyance. It wasn’t  _ fair _ that Ryou’s mind kept finding this memory. Yes, it was the last time he’d been out in snow, but he was going to hate it when he came back to himself. He was trapped being  _ Shiro, _ and ripping away his identity was going to gut him.

Shiro scrambled for what to say. Did he try to remind Ryou where he was?  _ Who _ he was? When he didn’t even recognize his own face looking back at him?

The most important thing was getting him back inside. The rest could wait. “I have a ship,” Shiro said. “It’ll be coming back in the morning, and you can have it, if it’s important. But you have to come back with me and wait in the house. That’s where it’s coming.”

Ryou’s eyes glazed over, like that was too much information all at once. He sagged in placer, once again wrapping his arms around his chest. His gaze dropped to his feet as he processed, and then finally he looked up at Shiro, eyes huge and hangdog from under his bangs. “You have a ship?”

“Yes,” Shiro lied with utter confidence. Not that he needed incredible acting skills to fool Ryou at the moment. He stood as well and offered his hand to Ryou. “Come back with me. We’ll wait together.”

Once again, Ryou seemed to be having trouble processing. Now that he was closer, Shiro could see the way his bangs were still dark from sweat, now trying to freeze. His eyes had a haze that wouldn’t shake.

Finally, Ryou took the offered hand. He stepped forward.

Only for his legs to immediately give out.

Shiro ducked forward, wrapping his arm around Ryou’s waist instead. Between the two of them, they were able to keep Ryou upright - if only barely, with the dead weight hanging off of his right side. Then, slowly, he helped Ryou make his way back to the building.

“Thank you,” Ryou said, as they stepped into the building. He hissed at the change in temperature, but quickly relaxed. “S’important.”

“It must be, if you’re trying so hard.” Shiro shouldn’t keep up the conversation. He’d certainly want Ryou to stop if the roles were reversed. But he couldn’t quite keep himself from poking that particular bruise. Was he seeing the world as Shiro, or partly as Ryou?

Ryou hummed and nodded. “Yeah. Voltron.” He sagged, growing heavier and heavier with each step. He let himself be led back to the stone bed without protest. “And the team. They’re all I have.”

The forlorn tone as much as the words cut through Shiro. 

It was true. For both of them, even now. The team was what they had.

“They’re lucky to have you,” Shiro said gently, laying him down. “You should drink. You want to be ready to leave.”

Ryou blinked slowly. “O-” His voice caught and he curled up against another hacking fit. This one was thankfully shorter, but he still looked about to topple over at the end. “‘Kay.”

Taking the bowl again, Shiro held it up to Ryou, who didn’t even blink at the treatment. He just sipped until he made a noise of protest and turned away. “M’good.”

It wasn’t near enough compared to what he was sweating away, but it’d have to do. “Okay. Lay back. I’ll let you know when the ship is here.”

Ryou slumped back down. “Thank you.” This time, his head missed the log pillow completely, but he didn’t seem more uncomfortable without it. Then, so slurred it was barely recognizable, he mumbled out, “Voltron.”

Shiro watched until Ryou’s breathing fully evened out. He wasn’t sure it was proper sleep so much as it was passing out, but at least he wasn’t wandering off into the snow alone again.

If the cold hadn’t woken Shiro up as quickly, or if Ryou had been a little faster and disappeared into the woods...

Reaching out, Shiro brushed Ryou’s bangs out of his face. He mumbled, but settled back down, so Shiro continued to gently pet the white strands. Ryou must have re-dyed recently, because there wasn’t a hint of black.

“You scare me so much sometimes,” Shiro breathed. “The team’s all I’ve got, and that includes you.”

There was obviously no response. Ryou’s breathing stayed slow and deep, if wet on the edges. His lips were slightly parted, and his breath ghosted against the stone below him.

Shiro continued to watch, eyes distant. He knew the exact desperation Ryou was feeling - he’d thought the same thing when he was getting home after Black teleported him away.

“We both have one more person than we did before,” Shiro said. “Even if that’s all we have, it’s enough. We’re family.”

Soon he’d melt more water and get more wood to stoke the fire again. But for now, Shiro was exactly where he needed to be.

Ryou slept on, and Shiro kept vigil.

***

A chill woke Shiro.

Immediately, his head snapped up. His neck protested the motion, already aching from laying at a weird angle, but Shiro ignored that. Instead, he looked to the door, heart pounding frantically.

It was still closed.

Shiro grasped at his side before he even looked away. His fingers brushed hard armor, and then brushed heated skin. 

Ryou made a grumpy noise and tried to burrow into the stone slab. He mumbled something that sounded like protest and turned his head away.

Only then did Shiro let out the breath that had caught in his throat. They were okay. Ryou was here. He hadn’t snuck away into the storm again.

But why was it so cold, then?

Shiro glanced over the room, distantly noting it was darker as well. His eyes tracked to the windows, making sure all the blocks of wood were still in place. In the process, he glanced over the stove, which was much less bright than before.

There was still a glow from within, but it was too weak to light even the small room. The fire had burnt down, leaving reddish orange ashes. The chill wasn’t from the wind getting inside - it was because the heat had faded.

Sighing, Shiro rubbed over his neck. He must have fallen asleep watching Ryou, with his head on the stone bed and the rest of him on the floor. No wonder he ached. Digging into the meat of his palm into the muscle, he walked over to the stone on his knees.

Most of what Shiro had brought inside were the larger pieces of wood, meant to keep the fire going. But thankfully, he’d also brought a few twigs and shredded pieces that would serve to feed the fire back up to a blaze.

As Shiro worked on that, there was shifting behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ryou sitting up. His hair was in complete disarray, sweat-drenched then dried into awkward spikes. His cheeks were still flushed, and even in the poor lighting he was visibly shivering.

“You awake?” Shiro called, keeping his voice casual. He kept one ear on Ryou, in case he decided to walk out again, while he continued to add wood to the stove.

“Yeah.” Ryou’s voice barely sounded like Shiro anymore - it was barely more than a croak. The gave several dry, painful sounding coughs. “There was something about a ship?”

While the latest twigs caught, Shiro turned around to face Ryou properly. He searched his expression, trying to tell if he was still delirious. It was difficult to tell, between his sleepy blinks and exhausted slump. “There was. Do you remember why?”

“The team coming back?” Ryou guessed. His brow furrowed as he rubbed over his face. “No, it was about getting to them, and... you...” He trailed off and let his hands fall into his lap. “I’m confused.”

Okay, he seemed to be at least somewhat aware. Shiro added in a few more larger sticks as the fire started to catch properly again. Then he brought over the stone bowl and offered it. “You’ve had a fever. You were pretty out of it when you woke up last time.”

“No kidding.” Ryou tried to take to bowl, but Shiro tugged it away and held it up unstead. It earned him a flat look, but Ryou let him tilt it into his mouth. A good thing, too. Given it was made of solid stone, the thing was heavy. 

When he was done, Ryou pulled away and continued. “I remember waking up and it was cold and snowing. I remembered being a clone and being on the castle, but it seemed hazy, and the cold was real. So it seemed like I’d just... dreamed about getting home, and that I needed to keep going.”

Shiro’s heart sank as he pulled the bowl away. He’d been there. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times he’d dreamt about somehow getting back to Earth, only to wake up and find himself still in captivity or in the Castle of Lions. And each time he had to pick himself up and keep moving.

It seemed like that was a skill Ryou had kept.

“I can see how you’d think that,” Shiro said, setting aside the bowl. “It’s been a strange several months, even without cloning.”

Ryou let out a bark of laughter, then doubled over into more coughing. He had to brace both hands on the bed to keep from listing over and falling off. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his palm. “No shit.” He paused, then flashed a weary smile. “I think that makes me Picard.”

Shiro cracked his own smile. “I don’t care how many lifetimes you dream, I’m still not Shinzon. That movie is garbage, and I wish you’d let it go.”

Outright chuckling, Ryou laid back down. “I’ll show you my true nature,” he croaked out. “ _ Our _ true nature.”

“You keep that up and I’m the one whose going to run into the snow.” Despite his protests, Shiro didn’t bother to hide his fond grin. Instead, he moved back to the stove and continued to feed the fire until it was fully blazing again.

Slowly, the chill that had invaded the room warmed back up. Satisfied, Shiro squeezed through the wood door just fast enough to fill the stone bowl with fresh snow again - a more complicated process with only one arm - then left that in front of the stone. Only then did he return to Ryou’s side.

From the quiet, he’d assumed Ryou had dozed off again. But instead he was laying on his back, arms folded over his stomach. He continued to shiver, but at least seemed to be getting comfortable.

“Better?” Shiro asked, settling down next to Ryou.

“Getting there.” Ryou turned onto his side, facing Shiro. “Thank you. For-” he cut off again to cough, but continued gamely on. “F-for this. Taking care of us. Me.”

Shiro softed. He leaned his remaining arm on the bed and pulled his prosthesis in closer. It was still stubbornly chilled, especially after being outside, but it would warm soon. “Of course. You took care of setting up this place, so it was my turn.”

“Mmm.” Ryou’s eyes fell closed. Just a Shiro started to think he’d fallen asleep, he cracked them open again. “Would you be relieved? If you thought you were a clone, and you woke up and you weren’t?”

Oh. Shiro bit his bottom lip, considering the situation carefully. “If I fell asleep tonight and thought I was a clone, and then woke up in the morning as the original? Yes, I’d be relieved. But if it was like you, and I’d spent months and months carving out a unique identity? I’d be very disappointed.” He hesitated, then added, “were you relieved?”

Ryou was silent for a long moment. “I wasn’t. But I wasn’t mad, either. It just... was. I didn’t have time to feel anything. It was more important to get home.”

Reaching out, Shiro brushed back Ryou’s bangs. He jumped at the touch, but settled down quietly, only a little surprised. Shiro used his fingers to pat Ryou’s hair back into order. “You were very feverish. You still are, actually, but you were out of it. We talked and you didn’t recognize me.”

“You were just kind of an armored shape. I was having trouble standing up, much less focusing.” Ryou’s eyes slid shut again. He gave a few more wheezing coughs. “You’d really be disappointed?”

“I think so.” Shiro took a deep breath, then continued. “If I closed my eyes and woke up after that battle with Zarkon? I’d be disappointed then too. Maybe things would be simpler, but it’d be so many steps backwards.” And he would miss Ryou, though the words stuck on his tongue. Too saccharine. Too direct.

Ryou’s lips curled up. “Simple is a good word. Terrifying and isolating are others.” He finally looked up at Shiro again, smiling through his bangs. The messy hair, flushed cheeks, and unexpectedly shy expression made him look startlingly young. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d be disappointed, too. We’ve done a lot of good work. I’d miss this.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about it.” Shiro idly smoothed his thumb over Ryou’s forehead. “Just rest up. Rescue should only be a few hours away.”

Ryou made a sleepy little noise of agreement, leaning into Shiro’s touch. “I’m glad we’re together, now.” Then, after a pause, his lips quirked up.  _ “Our destiny is complete.” _

Shiro flicked his nose. “Shut up and sleep.”

Chuckling, Ryou made a show of snuggling down. He gave a few more weak, disjointed coughs, then finally drifted off.

“Brat,” Shiro muttered, though he didn’t bother to smother his smile. Then, because Ryou’s terrible sense of humor was contagious (or, rather, inherited from Shiro himself), he added, “I wait for the dawn.”

***

When Shiro woke next, morning light was creeping in through the open edges of the windows. He pushed himself up slowly and idly reached up to rub over the cheek that had pressed against the stone floor. Nothing happened. Groaning quietly, Shiro repeated the same motion with his left arm.

He was looking forward to rescue for a number of reasons. But high up on the list was ‘getting his arm working again’. Just below ‘get out of the damn cold’ and ‘get Ryou to medical aid.’

Speaking of-

Shiro looked over at Ryou. He was curled on his side, expression pinched even in sleep. His hair was made silver by sweat and plastered to his forehead. He shivered, and it was impossible to tell if it was because of his lower tolerance for the chill of the room, or fever.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on his forehead and winced. Okay, fever probably had something to do with it.

For the moment, Shiro let him rest. Instead, he pushed the door aside just long enough to sneak out. The snow now came neatly over his knees. A few inches had blanketed over most of the furrows they’d dug while they prepared the building. It smoothed out all their hard work, almost burying it completely.

There was a metaphor in that, but Shiro really wasn’t in the mood to follow that train of thought.

Instead, he looked back in the direction of civilization. The sun was barely over the tops of the trees, so it was early yet. All they had to judge on the return of the team was ‘morning’, which could mean any minute or hours from now.

If ever.

Bad thoughts.

Shiro wrapped his one working arm over his chest, rocking from foot to foot. He could tolerate the cold better than Ryou, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the way it crept into his armor. He much preferred when it was working properly, keeping him at a consistent, comfortable temperature.

Leaning against the stone wall, Shiro let his eyes drift over the sky, as if he could spot the tiny flash of blue that would herald Voltron’s return. It didn’t appear, and instead he ended up looking at the pale blues and yellows that still colored the edges of the sky. They had missed a gorgeous sunrise, as if either of them had been up to waking for it.

“-iro?”

Pausing, Shiro blinked. The sound was so muffled and quiet that he wasn’t sure he’d misheard some kind of animal noise or the wind.

“Shiro?”

No, that was definitely Ryou. 

Shiro slipped back through the door, stomping out the snow on his boots. Avoiding more cold puddles would be nice if he could manage. “Yes?”

Ryou was sitting up, braced on one arm. His face was blotchy and flushed, and his eyes shone from fever. He visibly perked as Shiro re-entered the building. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” Shiro stepped over to the bowl and carried it over. “Thirsty?”

From the way Ryou crinkled his nose, he probably wasn’t. Even so, he let Shiro tilt the bowl into his mouth, sipping as much water as he could. Then he stuck out his tongue. “Bleh. Dirt taste.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get sick in a place without cups.” Shiro sat down next to him and searched over Ryou’s face. “What did you need?”

“Hm?” Ryou blinked, then looked away. “Oh. I didn’t- no. M’fine. I just didn’t know where you were.”

Shiro’s stomach sank as he remembered last night’s conversation - that Ryou had worried he’d dreamt it all. Waking up alone probably wasn’t helpful. “I just checked to see if I could spot our rescue on the way. Not yet, but it should be soon.”

“Good.” Ryou slumped sideways, until his shoulder pressed against Shiro’s side. Then he paused and jerked back. That set off a new round of coughing. “Oh. No, that’s bad. I’ll get you sick.”

“I think I’m already infected,” Shiro pointed out dryly.

Ryou’s expression fell. His openness might have been comical if it wasn’t also so  _ vulnerable. _ “Oh. Sorry.”

Heart clenching, Shiro shook his head. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault for getting sick. Though I wish you’d said something before you tried to hack out a lung.”

Ryou flopped back on the bed. “It was a little cough. Didn’t seem worth it.”

It was on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to continue scolding, but he really couldn’t make himself do it. Not when that was his own bad habit. Instead he just nodded, accepting that. “When everyone comes back, we’ll see if Coran thinks I can take something, or if I need a pod. No harm done.”

“Pod.” Ryou shivered hard, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to go in one, aren’t I?”

“Unless you want to quarantine yourself in your room? Probably.”

Ryou’s nose crinkled. “Might be worth it.”

Silence held for a moment. Shiro wouldn’t usually mind, except that Ryou’s quiet usually meant something was wrong. “Need anything? Want me to kick up the fire? I’ll start melting some water.”

Cracking open one eye, Ryou reached out and snagged Shiro’s wrist. Then he seemed to catch himself and pulled back away. “Yeah. That’d be good.” Then, after a moment, he added reluctantly, “will you come back after?”

The question was so plain and open that Shiro’s entire chest felt too tight. For Ryou to ask, especially in such a needy tone, he had to really want it.

And what he wanted wasn’t heat or water or anything else he had to need. What he wanted was just  _ Shiro. _

“Yeah,” Shiro said, managing to keep his voice even. “How about I stick around for a bit? You try and get sleep. You need it.”

“Kay.” Ryou curled over on his side again. Slowly, his hand reached out and snagged Shiro’s wrist again. The grip was loose, but the weight was solid and steady.

The sudden urge to bundle Ryou up and pull him in close nearly overwhelmed Shiro. If it hadn’t been counterproductive to sleeping, he might have given in.

Instead, he watched as Ryou’s eyes slowly slid shut, and his hand slipped away. His breathing wasn’t deep enough to be fully asleep, but at least he was relaxing again.

They were brothers. It was a conscious decision, at least to start. But rarely did Shiro feel  _ older. _ He knew he was, just because Ryou could technically only be a few years old. 

For all the jokes about being twins, they’d never grown up together. They’d missed decades of injuries, illnesses, bumps in the road. Shiro had never sat by the bedside of a younger family member and so desperately wished he could ease the suffering. To stem the terrible vulnerability of their dependency. To see them perk up and talk and move around normally.

Shiro had been protective before. Many, many times. But this was a particular kind he’d never thought he’d experience.

He hadn’t realized how choking it would be.

“You know,” Shiro murmured, barely voicing the words. “I was afraid at how reliant I’d be on you with only one arm. I thought that would be the worst part. I was wrong.”

Ryou’s brows twitched, but he didn’t respond to the quiet murmur. 

Shiro sat there, eyes settling just past Ryou at the wall. They would need more firewood soon if they wanted to keep the heat. Shiro had burn through most of the supply overnight trying to keep the room warm enough for Ryou. If they had to do this again - and he sincerely hoped not - then they would have to be more resourceful.

What was their plan if the team didn’t come back? If something had happened to... delay them. It was all to real an option.

(So was a permanent delay, but Shiro refused to dwell.)

Shiro hadn’t eaten the snack Ryou had in his pack, but that wasn’t a meal for either of them. They’d definitely need more food, and a second bowl would be wise as well. Eventually, they’d have to forage for food, or try to track one of the animals in the woods and hunt it. That would be exceedingly difficult with only one hand and no tools, but between him and Ryou they might be able to figure out traps...

Lost in thought as he was, Shiro didn’t hear the growing hum, or notice the faint light coming between the cracks in the window. What finally pulled him from his planning was Ryou turning over, and only then did he realize there was a noise besides their breathing.

Shiro’s heart picked up. He checked on Ryou once, to make sure he was fully drowsing, before stepping away and over to the door.

Above them hovered the Black Lion.

Relief swamped Shiro, both for their escape from the cold and that the team must have returned. He closed the door behind him, then waved widely, a smile growing over his face.

Slowly, Black came down, nearly filling the little clearing. The impact sent up a flurry of snow, as did when the huge head crouched down.

Immediately, Keith came jogging out, as if walking would take too long. He pulled off his helmet as he went, eyes wide. “What happened? Are you hurt? We got back to the town and they said you never came back.” His gaze snapped to the slinged arm. “What happened to you two?”

“The device we were looking out turned out to burn out electronics. Including this, and our bike.” Shiro gestured dryly to the lump of snow that hid where they transport had been. “And Ryou got sick, so we’ve just been holed up hoping you got back on time. Can you give me a hand with him?”

Keith’s lips pressed thin as he looked around, clearly reading more into Shiro’s quick explanation. “At least you had shelter,” he said, taking big steps through the snow to push through the banks. “Made it easier to find you, too. The smoke stood out.”

Well, Shiro hadn’t thought about that, but he wasn’t complaining. Instead he nodded and opened the door. “Ryou?”

Ryou was already sitting up again, though he was clearly unsteady. He’d grabbed his bag and tried to push himself to his feet, but he toppled back down after a second. “Yeah. Heard.” His voice was no better for his short rest, still sounding like each word was gravel coming back up. Then he reached out, eyes openly pleading. “Help?”

Shiro’s heart clenching again, and he resisted the sudden urge to tell Keith to wait outside. Ryou was showing that same vulnerability, and as much as it honored Shiro, it also scared him. He’d hate to be seen that way. Bad enough Ryou had to rely on Shiro - Keith didn’t need to see it either. It’d be mortifying for Shiro.

But he couldn’t carry Ryou alone, and Keith wasn’t someone they had to hide weakness from. So Shiro just stepped forward and wrapped his good arm around Ryou, helping him stumble to his feet. “Want to grab your bowl, too? You worked hard on it.”

Ryou’s face scrunched up. He opened his mouth to reply, but instead buckled under the force of more hacking coughs. Shiro nearly dropped him, except Keith came up and took Ryou’s other side.

“No,” Ryou finally said, outright sulky. “Dumb thing. Tastes bad.”

Keith’s eyes roamed over Ryou’s face, then to Shiro. His early relief turned grim. “Hey, Ryou. Think you can make it to the lion?”

“Which cat?” Ryou closed his eyes, then snorted. “Wrong cat.”

“Next time, Hunk can be our rescuer. This is what we’ve got for now. Unless you want to stay here?”

Shiro had been teasing, but he immediately wanted to take back the words. Ryou’s eyes fell on the open door, and a shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with his illness.

Rather than answer, Ryou took a step forward. Shiro and Keith matched as best they could with his stumbling process.

“Everything... good?” Ryou croaked out, eyes still on his feet.

Keith’s brow furrowed. “You’ll be fine,” he reassured, but he sounded unsure. His eyes rolled up to Shiro in question.

“He’s asking about your mission, I think,” Shiro clarified. He used his foot to further push the door out of the way, no longer caring if it fell over and let in the cold.

“Oh.” Keith relaxed, then rolled his eyes. “Fine. Easy, just far away and it took forever. Other ships don’t go as fast as Voltron. So we did a better than you two, seems like.”

“Not a competition,” Ryou said, bottom lip jutting forward.

“You two only say that when you lose.”

“So?”

Shiro smiled at them and shook his head. “Alright, rest your throat, Ryou. We’re glad everything went well, Keith.” Together, the three of them stepped into the Black Lion’s jaws.

Keith sighed. “Yeah, well, I think we should stop leaving you two on missions alone. Your luck multiplies.” He helped them up into the cockpit, then looked between them. “You want to fly back, Shiro?”

I was tempting, especially with the lion’s presence so warm and powerful in the back of Shiro’s mind. But he took one look at Ryou and shook his head. “No, you go ahead. It was a rough night, and I’d rather sit down.”

Keith’s eyes didn’t flick to Ryou, but it looked like a conscious effort. “Sure, yeah.” He helped settle them both against the wall, then moved to the comms. He called the rest of the team, already explaining the situation as he prepared for take-off.

At the same time, Shiro settled against the wall. By his side, Ryou slumped over, settling his weight against Shiro’s side.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice very soft and quiet. 

“Nothing to thank me for,” Shiro said, just as gentle. He leaned his head to the side, resting it on top of Ryou’s. “That’s what family is for. Now sleep. I’ll wake you before the pod, and you can decide if you want to go in.”

Ryou’s hand found Shiro’s and squeezed. “Thank you,” he repeated, even more solumnly than before. Then he settled in, still a warm, heavy weight on Shiro’s side. Within seconds, his breathing evened back out.

Shiro continued to hold out, watching Keith work and soaking up Ryou’s weight. He should talk to the team, but he couldn’t bear to pull himself away from Ryou, and he didn’t want to half-shout to the comms. They’d be back at the castle quickly anyway.

He was exactly where he wanted to be: heading home, with his family, and safe. Ryou remained a terrifyingly vulnerable presence, but now Shiro had help.

He would be worthy of that trust, as Ryou had done for him.

Shiro swore it.


End file.
